The Dance
by DukeGirl2001
Summary: Lizzie comes to Red for a dance. Inspired by the promos for Ep. 14. My first fanfic :)
1. Chapter 1

She knocked twice. Then once again for good measure. The door made a satisfying reverberation upon being struck by her hand. A solid slab of mahogany hung years before.

She heard muffled footsteps padding across the parquet floor of the interior. Slowly the door opened and there stood Red. White shirtsleeves rolled up his forearms and charcoal vest unbuttoned but still in place. He didn't say a word. Just raised his glass of amber liquid to her and moved aside.

The room was dark, the only light coming from a streetlamp outside the partially shrouded window and a green Tiffany lamp sitting on an end table. Miniscule dust fragments floated lazily through the air cutting the only light.

She still wore the red dress from earlier in the evening. A little worse for wear but still beautifully flowing along her slight frame. Her soft hair had begun to fall down slightly from its earlier chignon.

"Teach me to waltz Red", she said.

Xxx

She approached him cautiously but with an uncontrollable smile on her face. She held his level gaze, noticing the momentary clearing in his eyes. An ephemeral spark of surprise tempered with caution. Then the curtains closed and the façade returned. Wary.

Wordlessly setting his cut class tumbler on the table at his side, he took her right hand in his left and brought it slightly upward while placing his left hand on the small of her back and ever so gently guiding her towards him. Touching him. She felt the muscles of his arms and upper chest flinch and then contract and hold. So slight was the movement she wondered if it was real or just a product of her imagination. Lizzie sighed.

He held her ever so gently, like she might break, his hands almost steady.

He guided her to the dimly lit open space between the leather seating and the heavily filled bookshelves. "Follow me", he said. With that a slow step then a slow step then a turn.

Guiding her he turned towards the window. Toward the gilt framed portraits on the wall. Then back to the interior of the room. To the yellow globe sitting stationary on its brass axis. His left hand encircled her a bit more now, bringing her in. To him.

Her satin heels clicked softly across the pocked floor. The leather soles of his shoes made an accompanying scuffing sound. In the background the soft sounds of a Bach concerto rose and fell out of the darkness.

She felt herself relax into him. Felt him move. Felt the air stir around them in the quiet room.

She laid her head softly against his chest. Tentatively at first and then, upon his exhale, peacefully, her breath coming in and out. She felt the slightly scratchy wool of his vest. She inhaled the cold and the wood smoke. Heard his heartbeat. Steady. Steady.

Xxx

Red felt Lizzie against him. Felt the moment she relaxed and sighed into his chest. Felt the warmth of her belly through the fine material of her dress. Felt it through the starched cotton of his dress shirt. Warm. Skin on skin. Almost.

And the spark that had flickered barely noticeable in his heart began to burn.

And Red felt fear.

Xxx

Somewhere in the darkness the grandfather clock struck half past five with a single echoing bong. The unexpected sound caused her to startle. Shaking her from her reverie.

Red stepped back from the embrace. "I have to stop now. I have to go. Please sit. Please stay and make yourself comfortable. I'll have Marta bring some pie."

"Why, what?" He saw her look of confusion.

"Lizzie, I am not able to do this with you right now.

Not able to stay in check. With you. Anymore.

You make me want…things…that are not possible. And though I can withstand a lot. I am not…strong enough…to withstand…this."

Turning, Red walked out the door.

Xxx

Sinking down into the leather chair behind her Lizzie covered her eyes with her hands to keep the tears not yet materialized at bay. The pendulum of the grandfather clock made a steady sound from somewhere out of view. In the distance the smooth growl of an engine permeated the quiet night and with that the slow sun began to rise.


	2. Chapter 2

He hasn't seen her since that night. The knocking. The red dress. The waltz. Hasn't seen her, hasn't called her. Hasn't known what to say. Hasn't wanted to think about the things that feel.

But the Blacklist always beckons, and tonight they set out together again.

He tells her it's all about the gathering of information. The procurement of essential data. The means to an end.

A party. A hotel. A man. Information left unguarded in an empty suite.

"It's simple really, Lizzie. It's already all in play. As long as he is distracted, everything will just fall into place", Red says.

"And how do we go about distracting him?" she asks.

"Let me assure you, by we I mean you, and I would assume that your just being Elizabeth Keen is distraction enough." Red responds. Then walks away.

Xxx

She stood along the wall, just beyond the bar. Stared across the room like she was bored. Drummed her fingers on the smooth wood of the high top and glanced down to check her watch, a slender bejeweled marvel that was a prop for the evening, a gift from Red.

She saw him before he saw her. Stiff suit. Tie askew. Recognized his countenance from the photos in the file. Tall, but not as strong as Red. An air of importance, but without the last measure of confidence.

She adjusted her dress. Let is slide a little lower. Fought the urge to pull it back up.

Red was nowhere in sight.

The man approached her casually while on a steady track. Stood on the other side of the table for a moment before striking up a conversation. The music, the wine, would she like another drink?

"A drink for a beautiful lady?" A grin that almost leered but didn't. "May I have a dance?"

There wasn't so much a dance floor as an open space where people were moving to the music. Couples, holding each other close and murmuring. Thoughts. Observations. He led Liz over to an open spot farther across the room.

She sighed and thought of the intel that was surely being gathered as they brought their bodies closer together. He sighed and thought of what he might do with so lovely a lady as he had been lucky enough to encounter tonight. And so willing. And so young. He moved closer.

Having exited the elevator, Red entered the bar.

Red sees her across the room. Sees the dress turning around her graceful body. Sees the way her dark hair cascades down her bare shoulder. Sees the way she turns, just a heartbeat off the music, waiting for her partner to lead her into the next step. And from his position next to the heavy mahogany bar he can't steal his gaze away from her.

"Tonight's conquest Raymond?" The patron to his right leans over and follows Red's gaze. Red makes no sound in return, continues to stare across the room.

He sees the man's arm reach a little farther around Liz's back. Sees the man flex his long fingers before settling them on the smooth fabric of her dress. Sees her startle and move a little bit away before closer to him.

"She's a real piece of work isn't she Red? Can't say I would have pegged her for Duncan's type, but he does have an eye for the, shall we say, good performers, am I wrong?" Silence from Red, nothing more.

He sees the man drop his head down towards Liz's exposed neck. The scent of Liz, all vanilla and deep, overwhelms Red's senses despite their lack of proximity. Sees the man smile, a foreboding smile, full of things.

He sees the man's hands move again. First up. Then down. On the small of her back now. The delicate concavity that's hard for Red to resist. Then his hands move again. Lower this time. Red straightens. And a little bit lower. And in this complicated game of charades, and role play, and endgames, his hand is real and Liz is real, and…too many thoughts. Red begins to rise.

Red makes eye contact with the man. Doesn't move now from his standing position at the bar. Stares at him with cold eyes that do not match his placid expression. Sees the man tip his chin up and then down. So slightly. An acknowledgement. Of Red? Of luck? Of Liz?

The string quartet in the corner begins another song. Slower. Peaceful. A little melancholy.

He moves his head down now. Towards her face. Towards her lips. Liz tries to pull away. Imperceptible to anyone in the room. Imperceptible to her dance partner. Imperceptible to everyone but Red.

The game clock ticks on. Just minutes to go. And it will all be over. Intel gathered. Dancing done. Evening closed.

But Red can't do it. Can't stand there and watch. Doesn't care to analyze why. Shutting down reason. Feeling. He makes his way across the room. Slowly but with purpose. Finds Liz. Finds the man. Leans in. Red's arm already around her waist. Red pulling her to back to his side. Pulling her from the room.

The words left unspoken. She's mine.


	3. Chapter 3

He leads her out the front door, into the night. Into a waiting car. Through traffic. Leads her into another hotel. Smaller this time. Through the doors. Up the elevator. He is still holding her. Her hand in his. For some reason tonight she questions nothing. Just goes along. Without inquiry of the mission or its completion. Just lets herself be led.

He holds his key in front of the reader and sees the green light blink before pulling the handle downward and opening the door. Holding it open he guides Liz inside. Gentle as always. Small of her back.

The interior of the suite is dark. The only light coming from the french doors leading out to the balcony. Shadowed furniture lines the walls. A bar. A dining table. A bedroom.

He doesn't know why he brought her here. Isn't keen to question his motives right now. Just couldn't stand to watch another man put his hands on her. On her back. Red's back. All over her.

He leads her to the sofa and turns away. Hears her sit. Hears her sigh. Wonders what he is doing. Why is he here? Tonight? With her.

Doesn't say a word. Listens to the muted sound of traffic through the doors. Vaguely aware of the rustle of ice. Liquid pouring. Liz appears beside him and hands him a drink. Scotch. Good. Continued numbing. Why isn't she talking? He doesn't ask. Just raises his glass to his lips.

She's gone now. Just the traffic sounds. The dampened sounds of the hotel interior. Doors shutting. Bells ringing. A few jovial words overheard before the elevator doors shut.

Turning, he sees that the french doors open. Sees her moving outside. Silhouetted against the night. He turns and walks to the opening. Footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. At the doorway he stops. Feels the air move around him but doesn't step outside. Just watching. Watching her.

In the darkness the city avenues stretch out to the horizon. Electric snakes lit by headlights and street lamps. The sound of metro buses and motorbikes breaking the silence of the clear sky. The cool night air moving. Moving the sounds.

He approaches her from behind. Wraps a quilted blanket around her shoulders. Gently. Secures it tightly across her midsection. Leaves his arms around her. Feels her sharp intake of breath, but she does not move to push him away. Rather she seemed to relax into him. Leans back. Into the embrace.

Facing the concrete pillars of the balcony she stills. Hears his intake of breath. Watches the cars. A horn blares somewhere below. She asks, so quietly he has to strain to hear, "Is this real?".

With that she turns. Her face, his face, so close. His arms still around her. The warm breath of his exhales murmuring against her skin. His look, so intent. Almost fierce. But guarded. Always guarded.

Looks at her. Really stops…looking into her eyes for a moment. A slow pause. Liz can see the conflict in his eyes. And she knows. Knows that this is more than a game for Raymond Reddington.

He nods his chin. Keeps it down. Smiles a smile that is as real as it is brief. Holds her away from him. She can feel the warmth of his hands on her shoulders. Through the blanket. Deep inside.

"Lizzie…I can watch you from afar. Feel the pain of seeing you in another man's embrace. Temper that envy with your happiness. And that is all I can do. I have survived a lot of things…but I couldn't survive losing you.

In this lifetime I have already clawed my way back up from the depths of hell one time. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to do it again. There is only so much good that can burn before all that is left is the devil…I have seen that monster looking back at me…and he is not for you."

"So don't lose me", she says. Turns and walks inside.

Red stands still. Stares out at the traffic. Loses time. Breathes.

He turns to walk back inside.

She stands in the doorway, framed by the open half of the french doors. The dress lying in a silken puddle at her feet. Stands tall in only a fancy black bustier and stockings. Slowly lifts one foot up, letting the high heeled shoe fall softly to the floor before repeating with the second foot. She levels her gaze at Red and walks slowly towards him.

"Endgame Red", she said, "endgame."


	4. Chapter 4

He sees her standing in the doorway. The heavy wood of the entryway frames her form, illuminated in the perfect light. The warm glow of the interior lamps cast everything in softness and in shadows. She surprises him sometimes, his Lizzie. All the thoughts that run through his head. The thoughts he pushes away when he touches her, saves her, when she saves him, maybe she hears them too.

She puts her raised foot back down. Onto the floor. The polished red of her toenails sinking into the plush carpet. Her dress at her feet, pooled. Shoes discarded to the side. The spiked black heel of the left upturned and pointed towards the window.

He stands there. Doesn't move. The doors to the balcony still open behind him. The traffic still churning along. Horns. Exhaust. Acceleration. All the same despite the shift inside the room. The change. The charge.

He sees her there, his source of light, so alive…and he feels loss. The loss of his family. His wife. His little girl with the flowing blond hair. The loss of countless friends. Foes. Luli. All gone. Making up the emptiness. He feels their absence to his bones.

And yet, here she is. Lizzie, full of life and blood and, at the moment, is it fear? Uncertainty? Her dark hair cascading down to her shoulders. Skin white and rosy, setting off the dark lace. He sees the brightness of her eyes. Not so confident now as a minute ago, but she isn't moving. Stands her ground and returns his gaze.

He approaches her slowly. His face still unreadable. He is practiced at this. Blank countenance. Not betraying his inner thoughts.

"My dear Lizzie…." He starts to speak but doesn't. His words trailing off.

He knew that this was the end. Bringing her back here. To the hotel. His hotel. The guarded part of him, the thoughts he doesn't acknowledge, directing his actions. No turning back.

He's tired of running. Tired of revenge. Tired of the things that didn't matter…and the ones that do.

He stops in front of her. Shoulders back. Lifts one hand to her face. Touches the right side lightly. So carefully. Runs his fingers down her cheek and then back up again. Moves his left hand up. Pushes her hair back from her face. So gently. She is beautiful he thinks. Has thought for a long time. Never told her.

She bites her lip. Not hard. Just enough for her straight teeth to cause a slight indentation in the pink flesh. His eyes on her mouth, heart skipping a beat.

"Once we do this it is done. It can't ever be undone…you will always be mine." He says it slowly. The timbre of his voice so deep it's almost a whisper. The words curling into her ear as his lips stop, hover. A fraction of an inch away from her lobe. Not touching. His breath warm against her skin.

An involuntary shiver runs down from her shoulders. Under the black lace. Down to her toes.

He steps back. Holds her at arms length. Closes his eyes, breathes, and then opens them again. Outside the traffic roars, subsides, and stops. Horns sound in an uneven cacophony.

He looks down then, into her eyes. Sees the tears there. Sees her looking right at him. Sees something tender and unfamiliar reflecting back. And she nods. Her chin almost hitting her chest and then rising back up. Slowly. Definite.

And with that time stops…and starts.

He closes the gap between them in a second. So fast that she feels the air rush out towards the walls with a gasp. Wraps his arms around her and lifts her up. Walks her back against the wall. By the bookshelves. Holds her there. Heart pounding. Real. Feels her heart beating in her chest. Feels her bare skin under his hands. And he surrenders to the now. To what he wants. Loves. No games, no plan, no internal battle.

And he lowers his mouth to hers. Tightens his arms around her, anchoring her against his body. Surrenders.


End file.
